


Whiskey Crimson

by EgoDominusTuus



Series: Boys In Blue [5]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 01:26:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5438372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EgoDominusTuus/pseuds/EgoDominusTuus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn's managed to get himself into trouble again. The only person he can turn to is Silas... late night visits can mean so much more than you intend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey Crimson

Whiskey Crimson

 

   It wasn’t an odd thing for me to be out on the yard late into the night. It wasn’t even an odd thing for me to be out with a cut above my brow that was bleeding profusely and a fat lip – three months into training, and I was still a bit of a trouble maker. I liked to think of myself as mischievous, maybe a bit headstrong, and of the mind that I had to defend people who weren’t strong enough to stand up for themselves. I’d figured out who the bullies of our particular group were within the first few days of being here.

   It was those same men who had been catcalling and harassing a young woman on some of our off time after three months of boot camp. I’d managed to ‘get their attention’ with my (now very bruised) fist, and they’d followed me back to grounds and shown me how much they didn’t appreciate my intervention. Though I’d left one of them knocked out cold, the other two had made it clear that they would just as soon kill me as see me for the rest of the night. I thought about staying – I certainly had told them to fuck off – but in the end, I realized when it was a bit too much.

   The problem that I had now was the blood that still wouldn’t staunch coming from my forehead, and the fact that I’d managed to get locked out of quarters for staying out late. I wasn’t sure what to do… and maybe it was the bit of liquor that I already had in me, but I carefully made my way through our living arrangements, until I found the door that I was looking for.

   For the first time in my life, I found myself hesitating before carrying out an idea that I had. My bruised and bleeding knuckles were literally hovering over the dark wood. Silas might be asleep – he might not be too pleased with the fact that half of my face was crimson… or he might finally be tired of bailing me out of trouble. He was a higher rank than I was by a long shot…

   But there wasn’t another person that I could think to go to in a situation like this. Honestly, there wasn’t another person that I’d want to go to in a situation like this. Just closing my eyes, I could imagine his smooth features, that dark hair pushed back from his face…

   _I wonder if he’s asleep. I wonder if he sleeps in the buff. Quinn, calm down, man._

“What in the hell happened to you, Quinn.” I was so caught up in my fantasy that I didn’t hear the door open, and I didn’t see the shocked look that crossed Silas’ face as he was met with what must have been a rather shocking sight.

   I knew that I was a mess. I was in nothing but a white (now crimson) tank and my uniform pants and boots. It was chilly outside, but I’d lost my jacket to the woman that those three fuckers had harassed. I could actually hear them moving around, far clumsier than I had been. I hoped that they got caught. I hoped that I didn’t. I gave Silas a rather guilty look and felt my face try to form a pout. That only made me wince from my split lip.

   “Uhm, have any medical supplies?”

   Silas looked out at the yard, and then back to my rather pathetic appearance. He actually shook his head in what I could only imagine was defeat at my ability to always find trouble… and then pulled me into his quarters, his voice exasperated as he spoke. “I’ll get you fixed up.” 

   Lucky him – he got to bunk alone. Everyone in bootcamp was crammed together, but Silas’ room, while small, was private. I looked around with a small grin; again, I winced at the motion. He shook his head again. “Stop doing that before you hurt yourself worse. Sit down,” he gestured to a small table in the corner, where a shot glass full of whiskey was sitting. “I’ll see if I can stop you from bleeding to death.” He sounded disgruntled, and I could smell the whiskey on his breath, letting me know that the drink on the table wasn’t meant to be his first.

   I sat compliantly, yanking my shirt over my head to press to my forehead. It really wouldn’t be polite for me to come in here, only to bleed all over his things. When he returned to the room, I thought I noticed him hesitating for a moment over my now bare-chested appearance. Of course, I could have been imagining things. Pain, blood loss, my own little kernels of lust. I’d been pining after his sweet ass for two months now, and being in his quarters wasn’t doing a damn bit of good to help me with that.

   He wasn’t in his usual uniform – instead, he was in a pair of looser pants, and a tank similar to my own, only in a darker color. Silas was clearly preparing for bed, and I’d interrupted him.

   “Do I even want to know what happened?” I thought about answering as soon as he asked the question – the fact that he might react a bit more volatile than necessary if I told him about those three assholes heckling women at the bar, going so far as to chase one outside… no, I was better off not telling him. Not now.

   “Oh, you know. I fell into a doorknob.”

   “That doorknob looks like it hit you with a bottle.”

   I winced. He hit the nail on the head with that one. Or, I suppose the case would be that he hit the Quinn on the head. Regardless, I just shook my head, suppressing a smile. When it was clear that I wasn’t going to answer his question, he sighed again and came to my side. He has some tape strips and a bandage in his hand, along with a wet cloth.

    “If you keep annoying the doorknobs, I might have to start removing them from the premises.” Silas’ voice was soft but serious, and I got the message that he was sending loud and clear.

   “I was defending poor passerbyers from the doorknobs. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew that I’d lied. I would more than likely get into a fight with those three again. Still, I’d try to behave.

   “Knobs…” Silas muttered the word again, and then took my hand. I felt the warmth of his palm, and this close I could smell the alcohol again on his breath – it was sweet to me, and I actually closed my eyes in pleasure from his proximity. They flew open again quickly as I felt the wet cloth swipe across my forehead. I winced as he wiped the blood clear and then quickly applied the strips – stitch strips. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but it closed the wound quickly.

   “Why don’t you have the shot on the table?” Silas’ voice was sympathetic to the pained expression on my visage. I didn’t argue. I picked the glass up and downed it before he had a chance to change his mind, and when he filled it up, I downed it again.

   He looked at me, a small smile of amusement quirking the corner of his lips. He filled the glass up once more, taking the shot for himself again. I could feel the whiskey burning hot on the cut in my mouth, but the warmth in my chest and stomach made up for that pain. When he returned to the cut on my forehead, wiping it again and applying a few more strips of tape, I was thankful for the haze that was already settling over me. Those drinks, on top of what I’d already had… yeah, I felt nice.

   Silas stared at me for a moment, and I watched his eyes flicker to my own green hues over and over again, drifting from the cut that he was working on. Only after moment did he finally pull back. “That should hold. If it’s still open in the morning, you’ll need to see an actual medic.” He slapped a bandage over it and then flickered his eyes to my bleeding lip. “I don’t know what I can do about that.”

   “You could always kiss it better?” I blamed the alcohol for my answer. I didn’t know if I could blame the alcohol for his response. His light eyes widened for just a moment, and then his lips curved into the softest of grins.

   “Would that help?” It had to be the alcohol that was making me feel so hot, so suddenly. I couldn’t answer verbally, but I licked my lips, feeling the sting of my tongue on the cut… and then I nodded.

   Silas hesitated for only a moment, wavering in front of me… and then he moved. There was the warmth of his breath, the taste of the whiskey, and then my own blood fed back to me as he pressed his mouth against my own. It was my shock at his motion that had my lips parted, and he took advantage of it by gently opening my mouth wider so that his tongue could flick for just a moment against my split lip before dancing forward and against my own. A small groan escaped me, quickly swallowed by his hungry mouth, and I leaned forward.

   The warmth of hand was on my bare chest, and I felt his fingers working along the front of my body, fingers hungrily taking in the feel of my lean muscles as though he’d been waiting to do it for entirely too long. My entire body was burning – I’d been wanting this since he’d first stepped in, like some kind of white-fucking-knight, to call those three assholes off of me the first time they’d tried to 3 on 1 me. I’d imagined a thousand times how his kiss would be, how he would taste… and never once did I imagine that it would take like crimson whiskey. I didn’t care though, because I could taste him beneath it all. He was sweet, like honey, and I wanted more.

   It was that greed that ruined it – I pushed to stand up, and my arm knocked over the whiskey bottle. It clattered to the floor and the sudden sound sent us both startling apart. Silas’ pupils were dilated, his lips parted, stained slightly red from our kiss. My heart was thundering too quickly. Blood loss in tandem with alcohol made me sway slightly, so that I stumbled forward and against him. He caught me in his arms and I heard a soft laugh escape him. It reverberated through his chest and into my frame.

   “Let’s get you to bed, Quinn.” I wanted to argue, but I had a feeling that he wasn’t going to let me. Instead, he steered me to his mattress and pushed me down. I thought about asking him to join me, but I didn’t know how he felt about what had just happened… let alone me propositioning him for more. Instead, I compliantly let him throw a blanket at my bare chest. “Try to get some rest, will you?” I wasn’t mistaken with the soft tone of endearment in his voice, and I grinned again. This time, the sting in my lip didn’t make me wince. I could still taste him in my mouth, and if I had any say in it, I’d taste him again. I’d wanted him before – after that kiss? I was determined to have more of Silas King and his whiskey kisses.


End file.
